The future Lady Merton
by GraceBe
Summary: The story of Isobel Crawley & Lord Merton is far from over...Last chapter added... so will or won't Isobel become Lady Merton? Let me know what you think!
1. Chapter 1

**This came to me without warning, butI hope you will enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it! Have fun and leave me a note! Hug my beta for making this better than it probably is!**

 **The future Lady Merton**

 **Chapter 1**

"I don't quite see your point, father," Larry Grey said enraged and threw his napkin on his still filled plate.

"I think it's fairly easy," Dickie Merton replied calmly. "I won't host a dinner so that you can impress one of your lady friends." He knew it wasn't exactly kind, but Dickie felt rather satisfied to deny his son the favour he had asked for. No father should feel glad to rain in on his son's parade, but Dickie did and he even enjoyed it. Larry took too much in life for granted and cared too little for others and too much for himself. His mother had never denied him anything and she had never realized what kind of selfishness she had encouraged with her attitude. Larry had often angered and disappointed Dickie and he had often forgiven him. Until last year, when Larry had gone so far as to destroy his relationship with Isobel Crawley. Their relationship had been pretty much non-existent ever since. Dickie endured the annoying Sunday luncheons to make sure people wouldn't gossip about them, but that was it.

Dickie knew the motive for his son's behaviour was entirely based on fear: Larry had simply been afraid that Isobel with her big heart and her good natured attitude could easily outshine his late mother – which was a likely possibility. It had broken Dickie's heart to let her go and he would never not feel bitter about it.

At least he was given the chance to give his son a taste of his own medicine. Larry didn't accept his father's choice, so why should Dickie support him in anything regarding his personal life?

"This woman is likely to become your daughter-in-law, the future Lady Merton. We have to introduce her to the county," Larry insisted again.

"So, you've already proposed?" his father asked, convinced Larry had not. If Larry had proposed he wouldn't have hesitated to bring her along.

"I'm going to," Larry said avoiding his father's piercing eyes. "But I would rather wait until she has met you and Tim."

"You mean, you want to her to see the estate, so that she sees what kind of kingdom she'll get once she says yes."

Again Larry hesitated to give an answer and Merton didn't allow him to phrase one. "Let me tell you something, if you need to convince her with the premise of your future inheritance, a marriage with her is unlikely to be a successful one."

Larry laughed bitterly, "You can talk."

"If you are referring to Mrs Crawley, I can assure you, she wasn't interested in the estate. On the contrary."

"If that's what you believe," Larry scoffed. "If that were true, you could have offered her the less public position as your mistress. Isn't that the position women of her class are usually more entitled to?"

Merton narrowed his eyes and calmly rose from his chair. "This luncheon is over. Cabot will see you out. I would advise you to refresh your manners. Otherwise you'll have a hard time to find any woman to succeed your mother."

* * *

Isobel had just finished her cup of tea when her maid came in and announced a visitor.

"Lord Merton, Ma'am."

Isobel almost choked on her tea. It was late, already after ten o'clock and she certainly didn't expect anyone at this late hour. Before she could object or agree the Lord marched into her drawing room. A little irritated by his firm demeanour Isobel put her cup down and rose.

"I hope you don't mind me intruding like this, but it's important," he said firmly, his arms crossed behind his back.

"Thank you," Isobel nodded to her maid and waited until she had closed the door. "Well, that's a surprise," Isobel said, a little uneasy. They hadn't met since he had left her house after the night she had broken off their engagement. She vividly remembered his rage and the sadness on his face when he had left and she hadn't expected to see him again in these walls.

"I wanted to see how you're doing," he said. "It's been some time."

"It is, yes... I'm... well, I guess," she answered with growing confusion. "How are you?"

"Miserable, to be honest."

Isobel became pale and swallowed. His brisk honesty shocked her. He seemed to be just as hurt and furious as all these months ago and she didn't quite know how to react to it. He wasn't going to make this easy for her and deep down she feared she probably couldn't hold up her defences.

"Please, don't..."

"Why not? It's true. You know what happened today? Today my son asked me for a favour and I denied him my help. And you know how I felt? I felt happy, because I finally could do something to him that truly bothered him." He sighed. "The truth is, in the last couple of months I've turned into a bitter, old man who can't even enjoy the most simple things in life. I've become a man who enjoys hurting his own son, because he dared to hurt you – and me in the process."

Isobel was lost for words and she felt a painful sting in her chest. She hated seeing him like this. After all she had left him to spare them both an eternal atmosphere of bitterness, but now that he stood right in front of her, she wondered if she hadn't created something much worse.

"Without you," he continued, "My life is empty. It was empty before I knew you, but I was less aware of it, which was a blessing. You're the only woman I ever loved and losing you... not having you around is too much for me to bear."

He motioned towards her and against her better judgement Isobel didn't withdraw. She was too perplexed to know what to do. Dickie Merton had caught her completely off guard with his drastic confession.

"Look," she started. "I don't know what to tell you... I'm sorry..." She was entirely out of her element. She used to be quite eloquent when it came to playful banter or discussions about politics, but his passionate speech combined with this nearness was too much for her. She felt his hands on her upper arms and didn't object as he pulled her closer.

"Please, Isobel," he said in a raw voice. "I've tried to accept your decision, but I can't. Not as long as I know that you love me back."

He looked straight into her eyes and she knew, she wouldn't succeed in phrasing a convincing lie. "We discussed the reasons for my decision ad nauseam," Isobel said flatly.

"Yes, I remember that. But what if I think, being together should be worth the fight?"

He was so close now that their bodies were just inches apart. She smelled his cologne, a scent she had grown accustomed to in the months of their engagement.

"Isobel..." he lifted her chin and without any forewarning he placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. Defeated, she closed her eyes, as his lips travelled down tenderly and found her mouth. His arms wandered around her body and pulled her against him. Her reaction to his kiss was beyond logic or what she had promised herself to do. She couldn't allow herself to fall for his tenderness, but she was already lost. Her lips parted for him, as his tongue gently demanded entrance, and she returned his kiss. She leaned against him, as her hands took hold of the collar of his suit, afraid she might lose her balance. He hadn't kissed her like this before. Not even when she had told him, she would accept his proposal. He had always been so careful with her, so gentle, as if she was the most fragile thing he had ever touched. But tonight he was different. His kiss grew fierce and demanding and when she finally pulled away from him, her cheeks were aflame and she had to catch her breath. Neither of them spoke when she leaned against him, her forehead against his chin, trying to recover.

"That was quite an ardent declaration," she managed to say after a couple of minutes. Her heart was still racing in her chest and she was far from the ability to think straight.

"But was it enough?" he asked and cupped her face with his hands. "Will you marry me, Isobel Crawley, despite everything?"

~tbc~

" **Desperation can make a person do surprising things."** **―Veronica Roth, Allegiant**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Here's chapter 2. I'm going to leave this here and will hide in safe place. But before I run for my life, I want to thank you for your kind reviews! Be so kind and thank my beta for making this less bad than it could have been ;-)**_

 **Chapter 2**

 **Could we see when and where we are to meet again, we would be more tender when we bid our friends goodbye ~ Ouida**

 **3 months later**

 **London**

Isobel sat her dressing table and was utterly displeased with her appearance. Her complexion was pale and the dark spots underneath her eyes spoke volumes of the countless sleepless nights she had endured over the last couple of weeks.

She didn't know why she had come to London in the first place. She should have told Cousin Violet to go to hell every time she had told her to join the family for the season. In the end Isobel had given in, because the idea of staying back in Downton on her own wasn't exactly agreeing with her either. Since Tom Branson had left for America and Edith practically lived in London Downton was a lonely place in the summer when the rest of the family was in London. So she had joined them, but she was afraid with her ill mood she wasn't a particularly good guest for Cora and the others. And each time she got a glimpse of a newspaper her mood took a turn for the worse.

She had hoped Dickie Merton would stick to his habits and stay away from London for the summer. Usually he only went there when he was needed in Parliament, to avoid the social gatherings. Well, usually... This summer Lord Merton had obviously decided to go against his usual habits. Isobel grimaced at her own reflection and turned away. She picked up the newspaper and reread the small abstract for what had to be the twentieth time today, because she still couldn't believe what her eyes were seeing.

 _Baron Merton engaged to the Honourable Elizabeth Grant?_

 _As reported earlier this month the upcoming engagement between the widowed Peer and [the orphaned]daughter of Lord Binningham is not just a rumour. The couple has been seen together in London on several occasions and as we learned from a reliable source it is only a matter of days, before the liaison will be made public._

Isobel stared the paper and threw it into the rubbish bin. So much for his undying love, she thought bitterly.

Someone knocked at her door and she was glad for the interruption. "Come in!" She had hoped for Cora or Mary to show up, but her hopes were destroyed when the Dowager Countess entered her bedroom. Violet had a habit of driving her mad these days and she wasn't up for another round of endless banter.

"Are you ready?" Violet asked.

"Yes, I think I am," Isobel replied and rolled up her glove.

To Isobel's annoyance Violet closed the door behind her and leaned onto her can. It was a pose that promised a lecture or unsolicited advice - both things Isobel could easily do without.

"My dear...," Violet started, but Isobel raised her hand.

"Don't start."

"You don't even know what I wanted to say," Violet complained offended.

"Well, I know I don't want to hear it."

"But you should – unless you want to make a fool of yourself. If that is your wish feel free to send me out."

Isobel didn't reply. As always the old bat's remark had caught her attention.

"Robert's just told me that Lord Merton will be here this evening and he thinks we should warn you about it."

Isobel's jaw dropped. "I beg your pardon."

"As it is... he couldn't avoid inviting him and hoped Lord Merton... would decline the invitation – which he usually does... Just not today."

Isobel swallowed and busied herself again with her other glove. "Well then. I think I can avoid him."

When Violet remained uncharacteristically silent, Isobel looked up again. "What is it?"

"He won't come alone," Violet said. "He'll bring this blonde piece with him. The one they wrote about in the paper."

For a moment Isobel's first instinct was to pack up her things and leave, but then she realized that she would really make a fool of herself. Isobel straightened her back and shrugged, as if the motion could help to get rid of the painful prospect of seeing Dickie with another woman.

"I must say you take it better than I expected," Violet said after a minute of silence. "But then, why should it be a problem for you? After all, you broke off the whole thing months ago." Violet smiled sheepishly, but Isobel ignored her.

"Thank you for telling me, but you're right. It won't bother me. We're all adults after all."

"That is true," Violet agreed. "I'm not so sure about Miss Grant though... she looks rather young, don't you agree?"

* * *

Isobel had never had the wish to get drunk, nor had she ever failed to stay sober, but this evening she felt rather tempted to do so. Maybe the alcohol would help her numb her emotions. Seeing Dickie again after all those weeks was even worse than she had expected and she found that rather hard to conceal.

To her surprise and endless regret Dickie was in the best of spirits this evening. He had greeted her like an old friend, had complimented her on her looks and introduced her enthusiastically to his companion. A beautiful young woman with blonde hair and a radiant smile.

"Isobel, may I present the Honourable Elizabeth Grant?"

"Mrs Crawley," Elizabeth said warmly. "Dickie's told me so much about you. I'm glad we finally meet!"

"That's nice of him," Isobel replied with a smile that felt frozen and actually hurt her facial muscles.

"Well, he's a kind man. We should really get to know each other." Isobel tried to find a hint of sarcasm or something malicious in the younger woman, but she was in for a disappointment. There was nothing vicious or false about Elizabeth Grant. On the contrary, there was nothing in the woman's face that implicated such a thing, and that was something Isobel found more disturbing than she cared to admit.

"So what do you make of her?" Violet asked curiously, when she and Isobel retreated into the library after dinner.

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" Violet huffed in utter frustration. "What kind of person is she?"

Isobel shrugged, "She seems nice. Very nice..."

"So, do you think she's sincere?"

"She gives that impression," Isobel admitted. "And even if not, it's none of my business."

Violet exhaled. "Do you actually think a young girl of her age has fallen for someone who could be her grandfather?"

"Perhaps she has... he seems quite smitten with her anyway."

"Every man is smitten when a young woman throws herself at him," Violet countered lively. "And when that is the case, the man is barely thinking with his brain."

Isobel shook her head in disgust. "Please, Cousin Violet, it's Dickie's life, not mine. Besides, what if she makes him happy? I mean, really happy?"

Violet scoffed, "Do you actually think his sons will be happy to have a stepmother younger than them?"

"That is not my problem. But perhaps Miss Grant will have more energy to fight them than I had."

Violet sighed exhaustedly, "I thought I would never have to say this, but I miss the fighter in you. Be careful or you'll start boring people to death with your cowardice."

Clearly miffed by this, Isobel snapped. "I'm not a coward. I'm just tired."

"I can see that. I wonder what Matthew would say, if he saw you now."

Isobel's head jerked around. Her eyes suddenly sparkled dangerously, which was perhaps just the reaction Violet had been aiming to provoke. "Don't mention my son!"

"But it seems I have to. You once told him he had to fight for his love. Why don't you do the same?"

"Matthew was young and no one who's young deserves to be unhappy. I'm old and I had my share of happiness. That's the difference. If you'll excuse me now, I think I'm done for today."

Isobel rose and waltzed out of the room, while Violet remained in her chair and curled her lips into a knowing smile. Then she suddenly noticed a growing noise and angry voices coming out of the hallway.

* * *

When she entered the hallway Isobel was greeted by loud voices and a scuffle. Perplexed she stopped dead in her movements and tried to realize what was happening right in front of her eyes. Barrow and Molseley were pushing a shouting, visibly drunk man through the assembled dinner guests. To her shock Isobel instantly recognized the man and she had to catch her breath when he started shouting again.

"Don't you think I'll ever forget what you did to me!" Larry Grey yelled over his shoulder and straight into Barrow's face. "Everybody in London will know how you used me to get close to my father!"

"Be silent, Larry!"

Isobel watched Dickie Merton storming forward. "The Crawleys, Miss Grant, and I are expecting your apology until tomorrow at lunch time. Your entrance here was most shameful and disgusting."

Larry tore himself loose from Barrow and Molseley. "I disgust you? _You_ disgust me!" he cried at his father. "She was _my_ fiancé. I loved her and two weeks after I introduced her to you, she calls it all off, because of you! If someone should be ashamed, it's you and her."

For several moments Larry and his father simply stared at each other in utter silence, then the sound of high heels disrupted the tension filled air.

"You should go now, Larry," Elizabeth Grant said coldly. "I think you've made your point quite clear."

Larry looked disgustedly at her and there was just one word that his lips formed, "Whore." And much louder he added, "You'll regret this. One day you'll crawl back to me!"

"I won't and if I should ever change my mind, I'd rather open my veins," Elizabeth replied calmly and Isobel had not the slightest doubt that the young woman meant every word.

"Barrow, Molseley, I think you can escort Mr Grey out!" Robert Crawley ordered with all the dignity he could muster.

"Yes, My Lord!" Barrow and Moseley said in unison and did their best to push the ranting figure out of everyone's sight and reach.

"Sometimes I wonder why he's always ruining our dinner parties," Robert said angrily to Cora and then he turned around to face the stunned crowd. "Please, Ladies and Gentleman, let's go back inside. This was a fascinating interruption, but the sherry is waiting!"

"That's it for me."

Isobel startled when she heard Violet's voice behind her. "I've had my share of excitement for one evening. I'm going upstairs."

Isobel just nodded and watched Violet as she slowly left and passed Lord Merton and Elizabeth Grant on her way to the staircase. He nodded politely at Violet, but a second later his eyes searched the room until he had found Isobel. He established eye contact with her and the way he looked at her caused her to shiver. For a second she feared he would come over to her, but he didn't and then the moment had passed. The connection was broken as quickly as it had formed, as he turned his head into Elizabeth's direction and spoke to her.

Emotionally too exhausted to join the party again, Isobel decided to call it a night as well – certain, she wouldn't be able to sleep a wink.

 **~~tbc~~**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you so much, my lovely readers! You're the best :-) I hope you will enjoy the next chapter! my wonderful friend and beta Gemenied: you know the drill! Hugs and kisses!**

 **Chapter 3**

 **My heart is sick of woe ~ Anne Bronte**

Dickie sank into an armchair next to the fireplace and sighed out in frustration. Tired of the day and his whole life he rubbed his face. He washed down the bitter taste in his mouth with a large whiskey. The evening had not turned out the way he had hoped for. Larry and his unexpected appearance at the Grantham dinner party had spoiled everything for him and for the Granthams and their guests as well.

"I'm sorry Larry created such a scene," Elizabeth said, as if she had been reading his mind. She was sitting on the couch opposite Dickie and gave him a comforting smile.

"There's no need for you to apologize," Dickie dismissed her sentiment with a swift wave of his hand. "He's the one who has to make amends. Especially to you. His behaviour was outrageous! I should have known him better and prepare you for his vile temper."

"Don't mind me. Nothing Larry throws at me, can really hurt me," she shrugged, but Dickie noticed the slight shadow that crossed her face.

"I'm sorry, you didn't have the chance to talk more to Mrs Crawley."

Dickie leaned his head back. "I'm not sure how sensible any of it really is."

"Mrs Crawley was certainly not happy about my presence. That means she still cares."

"That's just it. The last thing I want is hurting her. She's had enough pain to endure. I don't want to add to her misery by dangling another woman in front of her nose." He exhaled and looked at Elizabeth. "And what kind of misery do I put you through? People shouldn't think that a beautiful, young woman like you is about to marry an old fool like me."

Elizabeth chuckled softly, "You are wonderful and don't you worry about me or my reputation. I won't be here to watch the English upper class gossiping about me once you've dumped me again. You know my ticket for America is already booked."

"Still, it's not right. After tonight the whole city will be talking about us. We should leave London and wait until people have found another scandal to occupy themselves with."

"And Mrs Crawley?" she asked. "You shouldn't give up so easily."

"Believe me, my dear, so far none of this has been easy," Dickie said and rose. "Forgive me, but I think I will call it a night now."

He bent over and kissed her cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night. And think about what I said," Elizabeth added gently. "I mean it. Fight for her and don't let Larry or anyone else dictate what to do."

"You're a good soul, Elizabeth. I wish Larry had more sense – and heart to know what he had in you."

* * *

"I wish you would stop pestering me about this," Isobel snapped at Violet when they climbed into the car the next afternoon.

"Well, don't tell me it doesn't bother you to hear that your former fiancé and this girl are living under the same roof!" Violet returned.

"That's gossip. I don't believe it for a minute." Violet crooked her right eyebrow. "Denker told me about it and she knows better than lying to me about something like this."

"Perhaps someone lied to her then," Isobel suggested coldly. "You shouldn't believe in every piece of gossip you hear."

Violet sighed, but gave in. "All right. Let's just try to get this afternoon's soiree over with God knows I hate exhibitions. If I wanted to see dead things from the past, I'd go to cemetery, not the National Gallery."

* * *

To her annoyance Isobel had to admit that Violet was right about the exhibition. It was incredibly boring indeed and after half an hour, she contemplated going back to Grantham House.

"Who would have guessed...," Violet touched Isobel's arm. "Look, who's standing over there, asking herself why she decided to attend this remarkable event of boredom."

Isobel followed Violet's gaze and saw whom she was talking about. Elizabeth Grant, impeccably dressed in a dream of white linen, was here and apparently she was on her own.

"She looks a bit pale, don't you think?" Violet asked. Isobel didn't answer, because she didn't want to give the Dowager the satisfaction of showing interest in Miss Grant. Yet, she should have known Violet wouldn't just stand by and watch. Before Isobel knew what was happening, Violet was sailing across the large room and approached the young woman.

"She wouldn't...," Isobel mumbled furiously, but, of course, the Dowager did and only a few heart beats later, Violet had Miss Grant on her tails when she returned to Isobel.

"Isn't that a nice coincidence, dear?" Violet chirped with the same bright smile Isobel knew to be the Dowager's most mischievous.

"Indeed," Isobel nodded, trying to be most polite. "Miss Grant."

"Mrs Crawley, I had hoped to talk to you last evening, but unfortunately... that wasn't possible."

"Well, how good the two of you have met here then," Violet said. "If you'll excuse me, but there's an old friend of mine, I need to greet." Violet vanished with the agility of a fawn and left Isobel and Elizabeth back in an atmosphere of uncomfortable silence, until Elizabeth finally broke it.

"I hope you don't find me impertinent, Mrs Crawley, but I was wondering, if... while you're here in London... don't you want to talk to Lord Merton?"

"Why should I?" It sounded harsher than intended and Isobel added quickly, "I mean, I'm not sure, it would be sensible."

"I think it would be very sensible," the younger woman disagreed politely "As I understand, there are a lot of things that need... to be talked about."

"I'm not sure what you mean..."

"Oh, Mrs Crawley, I think you do know what I mean and what I do know is that he's waiting for you."

Isobel blushed, embarrassed by the way the younger woman was getting at her. She suddenly hated, how well Elizabeth Grant seemed to know Dickie and how much he had obviously told her about their past. "I have to say you're..."

"I want what's best for him," Elizabeth interrupted her quickly. "As I hope you do, because otherwise a lot of heartbreak could be prevented. For all of us. So, please, go and see him. Talk things out. If you'll excuse me now, I think I've said enough to embarrass both of us for the time being."

Isobel watched the young woman leaving and it took her a few minutes, before she had restored her inner balance enough to face Violet again.

"So, what did she want?" Violet asked with barely contained curiosity.

"I wish I knew...," Isobel admitted flatly. "I wish I knew."

* * *

When Isobel and Violet returned home some time later, Carson presented them the evening post on a silver plate. It was just one letter and it was addressed to Isobel. She recognized the handwriting instantly and quickly hid the envelope in her purse, hoping Violet didn't see it. Which, she did, of course.

"I won't say a word," was everything the Dowager said, before she went upstairs.

Isobel sighed and looked wearily at the letter. The day had been tiring enough already and she was doubtful, anything in Dickie's letter would improve her mood. At first she contemplated throwing it away, but then she took it upstairs with her and read it while she was taking a hot bath.

 _My dearest Isobel,_

 _it pained me to realize that my son ruined another evening for you and your family. I can only extend my sincere apology for his behaviour and hope you won't think even worse of him than you already do. All I can say is that he must be hurting immensely to cause such a scene. Please, forgive him and me for making the whole situation worse than it already is. I know I speak out of turn, but I desperately wish to talk to you in person and I hope an invitation for tea the day after tomorrow isn't too much asked from you._

 _Yours truly,_

 _Dickie_

 **~tbc~**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks again for your support and kindness! I really hope you will enjoy the next chapter :-) Say also thank you to my Darling beta. She always knows how to improve my scribbling!**

 **Chapter 4**

It took Isobel the entire next day to make a decision and when she finally sealed the envelope that contained her answer, she still wasn't sure, whether she was doing the right thing.

"So, what did he want?" Violet asked after dinner, when the family had settled down for coffee and drinks.

"He has invited me for tea," Isobel answered.

"And will you go?"

"Yes, I think so."

"I see... How brave of you."

Isobel narrowed her eyes. She wasn't in the mood for Violet's teasing and did not intend discussing her plans with her.

"And why's that?" she asked, rather briskly.

Violet raised her eyebrows, "Touchy tonight, aren't we? I mean... will you ask him about this Miss Grant or not?"

"I don't see why."

"Then why are you going there in the first place?"

"He asked me for tea," Isobel stated matter-of-factly. "That's why."

"Oh my dear..." To Isobel's growing annoyance Violet sighed, as if she pitied her. "You really make this hard on yourself, don't you? But you're not Jeanne d'Arc, you know. There's no need for you to get burned."

Isobel repaid Violet's remark with a nasty glance. "I won't get burned. Don't you worry."

"Well, where there is smoke, there's a flame and where there is a flame, someone usually gets burned. Just make sure, it's not you."

* * *

When Isobel arrived at Lord Merton's mansion her hopes to find he was living there on his own were quickly dashed by the sight of Elizabeth Grant entering the house. What if Cousin Violet was right and Miss Grant was really living under his roof? And what if the papers were right and they were about to become engaged? What if Dickie expected the three of them to have tea together? For a few seconds she considered leaving again, but then she reminded herself of her good manners and her pride. If she left now, she'd make a fool of herself. If that happened, she would never be able to look him in the eyes again.

Thus Isobel mustered all of her strength and dignity, hoping this afternoon wouldn't end in another disaster.

Dickie greeted her in the hallway. "My dear," he said after he had kissed her cheek. "How kind of you to follow my invitation! How are you?"

"I'm fine. I hope you are as well."

"Well, it took me some to time to recover from the other evening, but, yes, I'm fine."

He gently took her elbow and led her into the salon behind the small library.

"Do you like the house? I'm afraid we've never met here before."

"It's nice," she answered mechanically, because her eyes were too occupied with searching for Elizabeth Grant to notice her surroundings.

"Do you stay here a lot?" she asked, as she sank into a chair near the fireplace.

"Rarely, I have to admit," he answered. "I don't like being in London. It's always so crowded and noisy."

"You sound just like Robert," she joked mildly. "Are you staying here on your own?" The question was out, before she knew she had said it. She nervously bit her lower lip while he lowered his gaze and rose from his chair.

"If you're talking about..."

"I meant, if one of your sons is..."

Both fell silent again.

"Miss Grant is staying here. She's the daughter of an old friend of mine. She's grown up in India and came back to England last winter, after her father died."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," Isobel said quickly, now ashamed that she couldn't hold her tongue. If Violet saw her now, she would have a field day.

"After everything you must have read in the papers, I felt I might need to explain it to you. Though I must admit it's rather encouraging that people still think of me as a man who could enchant a young, beautiful woman." He rang the gong to order tea. Isobel waited until the butler had left the room, before she spoke again.

"You know I don't care for gossip," she said quietly.

He turned and gave her a smile. "I know. But not everyone is as remarkable as you. My son, for example, seems to think the worst of me."

"From his outburst I take it, Larry was in love with her?"

Dickie shrugged, "Whatever he calls love. I'm not sure I know my own son anymore. Maybe I never have."

The door opened as the butler came in to serve the tea. Dickie returned to his chair and watched Isobel attentively, as she took the cup the butler handed her.

"Why did you want to see me?" she asked when they were alone again.

"I wanted to apologize," he answered.

Baffled, Isobel asked. "But what for?"

"Our last conversation back then wasn't very pleasant and I'm afraid I was rather harsh with you. I'm sorry for that."

Isobel shook her head, "There's no need for you to apologize. I wasn't exactly fair to you either."

"I pressed you and I had no right to. I should have accepted your decision."

Isobel fought to find the right words. She hadn't exactly pushed him away when he had kissed her – on the contrary.

"I wish we could get past this," she finally said. "I wish we could move on from all this and be friends. I'd hate for us to be on the edge every time we meet."

For a moment he said nothing, he just watched her, as if he had to contemplate her suggestion. "I quite agree. Though it's easier said than done."

She couldn't argue with that. Again the complexity and hopelessness of their situation crept up on her. She couldn't say it was easy to sit in his presence and pretend she was over him or even done with their relationship.

"Yes, but the alternative is not very tempting either, is it?" she asked with reddening cheeks.

"No, I guess not."

Suddenly, the door flew open and the butler came in, out of breath, and obviously in shock, "Excuse me, Sir, but you need come out immediately!"

Dickie got quickly on his feet, "What is it, Cabot?"

"It's Miss Grant... Mister Larry and she are having an argument. It's quite ugly and... violent."

"What is my son doing here?"

The butler blushed. "I don't know… someone must have let him in earlier… when Miss Grant was out."

"Excuse me, please." Dickie hurried out the room and after a short hesitation Isobel followed him.

When they reached the foyer, Isobel understood why the butler was so worried. At the top of the stair case Elizabeth and Larry were arguing. They were shouting at each other at the top of their lungs.

"Larry!" Dickie yelled upstairs, but neither of the young people seemed to hear him.

"You have no right to be jealous!"

"I have every right!"

Elizabeth scoffed and turned around. Larry grabbed her arm, but she freed herself with a quick push of her elbow.

"Get off me!" she hissed and missed the next step of the staircase. A scream escaped her throat when she realized that she was losing her balance. Unable stop herself from falling, Elizabeth tumbled. Isobel held her breath, while she helplessly watched how Elizabeth fell down the stairs. Larry gasped. His eyes widened in horror. After what had to be an eternity the young woman finally came to rest on the hard marble floor.

"Elizabeth!" he yelled, but paralysed he remained where he was.

"Oh my God!" Dickie and Isobel hastened to Elizabeth and he carefully turned her lifeless body around. "She's unconscious!" he said helplessly and looked at Isobel who had just noticed the blood on Dickie's hand.

"She needs a doctor at once!" Isobel said and got back to her feet. "I'll make the call. Dickie, can you take her upstairs? But careful, she's bleeding from the back of her head."

" _ **We're all in the same game… Dealing all with the same hell; just different devils" ~ Proverb**_

 **~tbc~**


	5. Chapter 5

**"Enjoy" the next chapter. Things can only get better after this :-) Speaking of making things better. Hugs to my fantastic beta who taught me that "unseeingly" is actually a word!**

 **Chapter 5**

Dickie paced the room like a caged tiger. It'd been two hours since the doctor had arrived and he hadn't seen or heard from Isobel or anyone else. Larry sat in the chair by the fireplace, staring unseeingly into the fire. He hadn't said a word ever since they had entered the room and Dickie preferred it that way. His fury over Larry's behaviour was overwhelming, but he refused to send him away, because he didn't want to let his eldest son off the hook. Elizabeth was badly injured and he wanted his son to take responsibility for it.

Just when the clock on the mantelpiece struck seven o'clock the door opened softly and Isobel came in. "The doctor just left," she announced quietly, carefully avoiding Larry. Dickie noticed she had taken her hat off and was still wearing an apron that was sprinkled with blood stains.

Larry rose, "And?"

Isobel hesitated, but then she answered without facing Larry. "She'll be fine... she needs rest and care, but she will be fine," Isobel said, staring at Dickie with a look in her eyes that he couldn't interpret.

"Thank God," Dickie sighed.

"I want to see her," Larry said eagerly.

"She's asleep," Isobel said indifferently. "Perhaps tomorrow - if she wants to see you. Or anyone else. She needs rest."

"Perhaps it's best that we allow her to recover in peace." Dickie's voice sounded like a warning.

Larry swallowed, but he nodded, realizing he had lost this battle. "I should be going then," he said and crossed the room with quick steps, as if he feared someone might try to hold him back. Isobel lowered her eyes, as he passed her, unwilling to acknowledge him in any way.

"We'll talk about this tomorrow!" Dickie said to Larry, who just nodded and headed for the door.

"Mrs Crawley...," Larry stopped, a hand on the door handle, and hesitated, "Thank you," he said lowly and left. Isobel winced, "Somebody should write that down."

"Thank you," Dickie repeated softly. "It was good of you to take charge."

Isobel shook her head. "I guess even Larry would have called for the doctor. I was just quicker."

"Well, I imagine a fall like this could have been fatal," Dickie said. "It was good of you to take care of her."

"In a way it was fatal," Isobel explained calmly and looked down on her hands that were folded over the stained apron.

Dickie was confused. "What do you mean? You said she would be fine."

"And she will be fine in time," Isobel confirmed in a strange voice. "But she lost the baby."

Dickie became pale, "I beg your pardon."

"Elizabeth was pregnant," Isobel explained. "It was at an early stage. I doubt she knew it herself."

"Good Lord." He drew a deep breath. His shock was obvious. She had seen it before with men who didn't know what was happening to their wives. Having and losing children was not something men could cope well with in general. And when the child was illegitimate the embarrassment was even bigger.

"Is there anything I can do for her?" he asked.

"I don't know. That's something you need to find out yourself."

Only now he registered how hollow and distant she sounded. Confused about her uncharacteristic coldness, he looked at her. The events had clearly taken their toll on her. He could tell she was tired, but underneath her understandable exhaustion, there was something else. A tension he had never seen in her before.

"Is there anything else?" He asked, tensely.

She shrugged, "No... I was just wondering..."

"About what?"

"I'm wondering who the father was," she explained coldly.

He held his breath as he finally understood the meaning behind her demeanour. "Is that what you think of me?" He asked, visibly hurt by the underlying accusation.

"As a matter of fact, I don't know what to think," she replied honestly.

"I never touched her," he said, his voice rising with anger. Isobel closed her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to believe him, but there was this tiny bit of doubt in her heart. This flickering pain called jealousy that got to her every time she thought about the young, beautiful woman. It had been haunting her ever since she had seen them together at the dinner party at Grantham House.

"How can you even think I would..." He was lost for words and finally his frustration with her and their situation found an outlet. "Will you ever be done with stomping all over my heart and my dignity?"

Alerted by his tone of voice her head jerked around. "Excuse me?"

"First you agree to marry me, then you reject me, not only once, but twice and now you're standing here in front of me, perfectly aware of my love for you...," he exhaled deeply, "and accuse me of philandering! With a woman who could easily be my own daughter and who was almost engaged to my oldest son?!"

"Well..." Isobel felt blood rising into her cheeks.

"Not to mention the fact that you were the one who kicked me out of your life, whom I was incapable of convincing to marry me!"

"But..."

"What?" He asked briskly.

"She's living in your house; you were constantly seen together in public and after the scene Larry..."

Dickie laughed bitterly, "Do you think I would be flaunting around a mistress in front of everyone's eyes here in London and let her stay in my house, hoping the servants won't catch me sneaking across the hall in the middle of the night?"

She had to admit that his logic made more sense than her jealousy driven imagination, yet...

"She's young, she's beautiful, she's...," she said, now much wearier and desperate.

"She's what?" He asked.

"She's here and so close to you. She's everything I am not."

"You could have been here," he said quietly. All the anger seemed to have been drawn out of him. "I wanted you more than words could express. But you refused me over and over again."

"You know why."

"And I'm tired of hearing it."

Both fell silent and with the silence an unbearable sadness filled the room.

"I should be going now. The others will be waiting for me," she decided, when she realized there was nothing left to be said.

"I'm sure they are," Dickie replied and rang for the butler. "Cabot will see you out."

" _ **It's discouraging to think how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit."  
**_ _ **― Noël Coward**_

 **~tbc~**


	6. Chapter 6

**The plot is thickening... every time the Dowager decides to get involved :-) Thank you so much for your continued support and all the lovely reviews! I think I've mentioned it before, but without my beta you wouldn't have much reason to enjoy this story!**

 **Chapter 6**

Isobel arrived just in time for dinner and caught Violet on her way to the salon.

"Where have you been?" Violet asked somewhat confused, as she perceived Isobel's dishevelled appearance. "I hope you haven't done something…"

"Don't you start!" Isobel cut her off. "I have to tell you something!"

Perplexed by Isobel's sharp order, Violet followed her upstairs into Isobel's room.

While she quickly picked out her evening clothes, Isobel explained in short words what had happened in Dickie's house.

"I have to say I'm in shock," Violet confessed, uncharacteristically short of words. "And now?"

"I don't know," Isobel replied. "I don't know what to think."

"But don't you think it's more likely that Larry is the father?" Violet asked.

"I guess it would make sense…," Isobel broke off. "But what if not? What if Dickie... After all, you were the one who said that Miss Grant had been throwing herself at Dickie."

Violet sighed, "Listen, dear, I know what I said, but I can't say I was convinced of my own words. I think it's rather mad to believe Lord Merton could have been the father of Miss Grant's child."

Isobel narrowed her eyebrows. "I beg your pardon?"

"My dear, I admit it. I wanted to plant certain ideas into your head! You needed to realize what he means to you. And having a potential rival in Miss Grant seemed to be a promising way to achieve that," Violet explained patiently.

"You wanted to make me jealous?" Isobel asked indignantly.

"Don't pretend it didn't work," Violet scolded her. "I've never seen you like this before."

Isobel bristled with anger. "Let me tell you something, Cousin Violet! Not a thing will change between Dickie and I whether he is the father or not."

Violet shook her head. "Oh, if you ask me, everything has changed. And now you should get ready. It would be a pity to miss dinner just because you're stubborn as a mule."

* * *

The next day Isobel decided to go back to Dickie's house to see how Elizabeth was doing. She felt she owed the young woman a visit. It was also the perfect opportunity to apologize to Dickie. Now that the confusion caused by Elizabeth's accident was clearing, Isobel realized she had become a victim of her own jealousy.

Cabot, the butler, let her in and informed her that his Lordship wasn't there.

"I'll just go upstairs then," Isobel said and headed upstairs, where she found Elizabeth in bed. She was very pale and looked rather fragile. She was visibly surprised to see Isobel.

"Mrs Crawley, how nice of you to come."

"I just wanted to see how you are," Isobel said and out of habit she reached out to touch Elizabeth's forehead. "No fever I see. Did you eat?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, I had some toast. The Doctor was here this morning. He said I was lucky."

"You were indeed," Isobel agreed pensively. "Do you want to talk about it? Perhaps you have some questions."

"I don't think so. And you've done enough for me." Elizabeth said flatly. "I just want to forget. But... does Larry know?"

Isobel looked at the young woman and felt sorry for her. Whatever happened between her and Larry wasn't pretty and the situation she was in, was even less uplifting. "I haven't told him anything. But I did tell Lord Merton."

The young woman closed her eyes in despair. "I guess that's the reason he wasn't here yet. God, I'm so embarrassed."

"He's quite worried about you," Isobel said and swallowed. "Miss Grant, there's something I have to ask you, but I don't want you to misunderstand me."

"It was Larry's baby," Elizabeth said tonelessly. "I'm just here, because I have nowhere else to go. After my parents died I learnt that they left me nothing, but an empty house in York. When I first got back to England I met Larry and we... well, it didn't work out. His father was a friend of my parents. I've known him since I was a child and he offered to shelter me. He's like a father to me."

"I see," Relief flooded Isobel and her lips curled up into a smile.

"It was my idea to make you jealous," Elizabeth continued. "And it worked, didn't it?"

Isobel preferred not to answer, but she felt how her cheeks coloured.

"He loves you so. Give him a chance."

"It's not that I don't want to," Isobel admitted. "But you know Larry. He won't allow us to be happy."

"Larry doesn't allow himself to be happy," Elizabeth returned sharply. "Ignore him and live your life."

"Would you have told him?" Isobel asked, because she needed a change of subject, before she admitted more than she was ready for. "About the baby I mean… If you had known?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "Only over my dead body."

* * *

"Is Lord Merton in now?" Isobel asked Cabot, when she met the butler in the hallway downstairs.

"He is, Madam, but he's having a visitor," Cabot informed her politely. "Do you want me to tell him you're here?"

Isobel hesitated. Perhaps this wasn't the right time. "No, thank you. I don't wish to disturb him." She thanked the butler and together they headed for the front door. The door to the library opened, just when Isobel was saying goodbye. When she heard Dickie's chuckle, she unconsciously turned around and as soon as her eyes caught the reason for his good mood, she wished she had never set a foot in his house again. He was talking with Lady Shackleton. Isobel instantly remembered the annoying luncheon at Violet's when the Dowager had hoped to pass on Dickie to the wealthy widow.

"It was good of you to come by," he said and looked up, as if he had felt Isobel's eyes lingering on him.

"Isobel!" he seemed surprised and then he realized that Lady Shackleton was standing next to him. Isobel knew, she couldn't just leave now and so she went inside again to greet Dickie and his guest.

"What a surprise," Lady Shackleton said with a smile that looked extremely forced.

"I was just leaving. I paid Miss Grant a visit. She seems a lot better today."

"That's good to hear," Dickie said. "I'm afraid the poor thing has caught a touch of food poisoning," he explained to Lady Shakleton.

"Oh, how inconvenient."

"Yes, it is," Isobel agreed. "Anyway, I'm on my way out," Isobel said, wishing she could vanish into thin air.

"Please, stay," Dickie said promptly. "I'd like to talk to you."

Now trapped, Isobel mumbled a low agreement while Dickie summoned his butler. "Cabot will see you out," he said to Lady Shackleton who smiled at him, but seemed rather displeased to be send away like this.

"Please, come in," Dickie said, as soon as Lady Shakleton was out of earshot. Isobel followed him inside the library.

"Can I offer you something?" he asked.

"No, thank you."

"I'm glad you came today," Dickie said politely, but without the smile that he usually acknowledged her with.

"I just wanted to see how she was. But she seems to be a tough thing."

"She is indeed," Dickie confirmed.

"Look," Isobel drew a deep breath and finally plucked up the courage to apologize. "I'm sorry for last night. I was rude, and out of line – and wrong. I know that now and I should have known all along."

Dickie narrowed his eye, "What made you change your mind?"

"Actually it was Lady Grantham. And I talked to Elizabeth this morning," Isobel gave him a weak smile that left him rather unimpressed.

"The question is, if any of this makes a difference for us," he said, ignoring her apology.

"I don't know," Isobel confessed. She remembered her words to Violet the night before. She had told her cousin that nothing had changed between her and Dickie and last night she had meant it. But did she mean it now?

"I see." He snorted lowly.

"Will you at least accept my apology?" she asked in an almost begging tone of voice.

"Of course," he said with a sad sigh.

Isobel knew he was sincere, but she rather wished he wouldn't be. It would be so much easier to leave, if he weren't so forgiving and she didn't love him.

* * *

Violets' eyes scanned every detail of the salon at Grantham House to check if everything was in order. She had made sure that every family member was gone and only Carson would be around to serve the tea. The less people knew what she was doing, the better. The last thing Violet needed this afternoon would be witnesses – or too many accomplices.

Her visitor was on time, as she had expected. After all, her message had been clear easy to understand.

As soon as her guest had taken the seat opposite her, she dropped the pleasantries and came straight to the point.

"The way I see it, Mr Grey, you have a straightforward choice. You can choose between the devil and the deep blue sea."

" **The hardest choices in life aren't between what's right and what's wrong but between what's right and what's best."**

― **Jamie Ford, Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet**

 **~tbc~**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for the ride, my dear readers. It was a pleasure writing for you! I'm not sure it was always a pleasuree for my beta, but she saw it through with great patience and wonderful suggestions! I love you, Darling :-)**

 **Let me know what you think about the last chapter!**

 **Chapter 7**

She had forgotten how tall this man was, Isobel realized when she raised herself up on her tiptoes and kissed him. At first he was paralysed, but as soon as her lips touched his, he jerked away, as if he feared her touch to be poisonous.

"What's happening here?" he asked cautiously, her wrists caught in his hands. She had simply steamrolled him with her bold approach. Not that he didn't want or that he minded to be kissed by her, but he certainly could do without another goodbye kiss. He was tired of false hope and uncertainty.

"I love you," Isobel stated softly. "And I want to be with you."

"Are you quite sure?" Dickie swallowed nervously. He needed to be sure that she meant what she said. He wouldn't survive if she left him again.

"Yes," she said and cupped his face in her hands. She felt how tense he was, saw the fight within his eyes and so she added gently, "Unless you don't want me anymore. I wouldn't blame you."

"I will always want you," he admitted, his eyes searching for sincerity in hers.

"Then you will accept me?" Isobel asked hopefully and leaned against him.

"Good Lord, yes!" He placed his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her against him. He kissed her longingly until they were both left breathless.

"I wish I could marry you right now," he said, when he forced himself to break free from her.

"I doubt they were aiming Gretna Green at us," Isobel replied with a chuckle.

"Then I'll have to live with your promise not to go off me again."

"I won't," she promised, as she snuggled up against him. "I swear it. Come hell or high water!"

* * *

 **A few days later**

"I don't believe it!" Isobel was flabbergasted. Violet and she were having tea in the salon at Grantham House. After Isobel had returned from Dickie's house Carson had handed her two letters. One had been from Larry Grey and the other from his younger brother Timothy.

"Why don't you believe it?" Violet asked lightly.

"Why would Larry welcome me in the family all of the sudden? And why Tim? How can he even know what is going on? He's been on the continent for the last few weeks!"

Violet shrugged, while Isobel reread a part of Larry's letter out loud. _"I wish you every happiness and I hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive my impertinence."_ Isobel gave Violet a look. "I'm sorry, but this doesn't make sense."

"Oh, but it does," Violet argued mildly. "You know his secret now. What do you think would happen, if somebody learned about his liaison with Miss Grant, and her accident? Perhaps he thinks that you'll keep quiet about everything when you're part of the family."

Isobel wrinkled her forehead, still a bit unconvinced. "Still... he even says he contemplates going to America."

"That sounds indeed too good to be true," Violet admitted amusedly. "So, did you set a date?"

"Not yet," Isobel said. "There's no rush."

"If I were Dickie Merton I wouldn't let any grass grow under your feet, once you agreed to do the right thing," Violet quipped with a satisfied smile on her face.

"We will get married," Isobel said determinedly. "Don't you worry!"

* * *

 **Cavenham Park, 6 months later**

Isobel closed the book she had been reading for the last hour and suppressed a yawn. A quick glance at the clock told her it was already after midnight. She looked at the empty space next to her and wondered why Dickie hadn't come to bed yet. When she had gone upstairs, he had promised to follow her soon. It wasn't like him to keep her waiting, but he had been acting strangely all day long and that got her worried. She had a feeling that he was keeping something from her. They had been married for three months now and those three months had been the happiest times she had spent in decades. Today was the first day he was absent-minded and even short with her. And now he stayed downstairs, in the library she assumed reading or better brooding over something. The alternative was that he had decided to sleep in his dressing room for the first time in their marriage and the idea scared her more than she wanted to admit.

If she had done or said something wrong, she couldn't recall what it was, yet it wasn't like him to retreat from her like that.

Knowing she wouldn't be able to sleep, before she knew what was wrong with him, she climbed out of bed and slipped into her dressing down.

To her relief she found him in the library where he was sitting in his favourite chair by the fireplace. He held a letter in his hand and was staring into the flickering fire. He didn't notice her as she slowly approached him and startled when she placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Isobel!" Perplexed he looked up to her.

"I'm sorry," she said warmly, "But I was wondering if you had fallen asleep in here."

"No. I was just thinking." He folded the letter and put it back into the pocket of his dinner jacket. Knowing now that she was right with her inkling, she sank down in front of him and touched his knee.

"What is it? Can I help?"

Touched by her loving gesture he caressed her cheek. "No, my Darling. It is nothing I want to trouble you with."

"Perhaps I want to be troubled by the things that trouble you," she suggested lowly.

A smile broadened on his face, "I really don't deserve you."

"Please, tell me," she urged him. "You worry me. Are you ill? Have I done something wrong?"

Surprised, he shook his head, "I'm not ill and it's certainly not you. It could never be you."

"So? You know I'll pester you until you tell me the truth!"

He sighed in defeat, "You could never pester me, but I see that I can only lose this battle. The letter," he patted his pocket. "It's from Larry."

As always when Larry's name was mentioned, Isobel froze. Since he had moved to America shortly before their wedding, they had barely heard from him. Larry hadn't been at their wedding and neither she nor Dickie had been exactly sad about it. As far as Isobel could recall this was only the third time Larry had ever written to his father and the expression on Dickie's face told her, he wasn't happy about the content of the letter.

"What does he write?" She asked cautiously.

"He wants to get married," Dickie replied with a heavy sigh. "And guess the name of his bride to be."

Isobel shrugged cluelessly, but then it dawned on her. "Elizabeth Grant?"

"Yes," Dickie confirmed. "Apparently they met in Boston at a cocktail party and got reacquainted."

"And you don't like it," Isobel concluded lowly. She knew she was being ridiculous, but every time she thought about the young woman she felt a sting in her heart. She suspected she would never not feel jealous of the young woman. She had never openly admitted it to anyone, but she was glad Elizabeth had emigrated to America, far away from Dickie and her. Out of sight, out of mind.

"It'll never work out between them," Dickie said. "This marriage is doomed to become a failure."

"But isn't that something they must find out by themselves?" Isobel asked, hoping she didn't sound too harsh.

He agreed, "Of course, but there are mistakes that can be avoided. Larry and Elizabeth are as ill suited as Ada and I were. The whole idea is insane!"

"So, will you go there?" She asked, dreading the idea of going to America to deal with Larry and his future bride.

Dickie sighed, but eventually shook his head. "No. I doubt I could make a difference. I just hate the idea of two young people ruining each other's lives."

Isobel lowered her eyelashes, aware how selfish she was when she simply wished Larry and Elizabeth would stay abroad. "Yes, I know."

He reached out and gently lifted her chin so that she had to face him.

"I just want everybody to be as happy as I am with you. Even the people who perhaps don't deserve it," he declared softly and bent over to kiss her. She swiftly slipped into his embrace and returned his kiss with hunger, hoping to erase the memory of the sorrow Larry and Elizabeth had caused her.

"I love you," she whispered, as his lips found the way down her neck and found the little spot underneath her jaw where his touch used to cause shivers all over her skin. "Let's go upstairs." Her husky demand caused him to smile. He withdrew and together they rose to their feet. He slipped his arm around her waist and together they left the library to go upstairs, happy to know they had found each other.

 _ **Demons are like people. Some leave us as time passes by, other stay with us until we draw our last breath. ~ Grace Bennett**_

 **~The End~**


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